Trouble
by LzzysGoneAWOL
Summary: AU - Claire meets a a stranger at a club and hey, she could use a good night of fun..
1. Trouble

**I wanted this to be longer but I figured if I waited any longer, I wouldn't publish this at all. So here you go. I hope you like it. Btw, for some reason, the inspiration to this came when I heard I Knew You Were Trouble by Taylor Swift o.O...**

Breathe. Drink. Enjoy yourself. Forget all about the man that broke your heart. It was a to-do list for her. Phases. Checkpoints. Anything that made getting over him easier. Something easier said than done.

Rhythmic beats overlaying drunken happiness consumed most of the occupents of A Dying Wish. A club at the heart of the city. Famous for it's drinks and wide variety of music. Stretching from techno, to dubstep, and to rock. It was heaven away from heaven with a little taste of hell. Somewhere you can go to and forget all the bullshit that makes up your life. Get drunk, dance, maybe even get laid. Point is that you forget whatever crisis is happening. Even only for a few hours.

"Don't look so sad, Claire." Her best friend, Dylan, said. Noticing how she stared at her glass instead of drinking it's contents.

"Don't tell me what to do." She replied. Swirling the clear liquid around and around. Watching it slosh at the sides of the glass.

"He's still on your mind?"

Claire nodded. Cringing internally at the mention of him.

"Honey," Dylan started. Placing his hand over hers comfortingly. "There are going to be so many other guys out there just waiting for a girl like you. And when you meet one of those guys, you can't still be stuck on him." He pushes a loose strand of her hair back with his other hand. "Else you'll never be happy."

Claire smiled. If there was one person she could count on to make her feel better, it was Dylan.

"Take Alexei for example." He said pointing at the bartender. "Hey, Alexei! Come over here!"

From up the bar, a tall, tanned skin guy with pushed back black hair wearing a black Armani button down dress shirt walked up to them. He was a great looking guy. The kind that's great to look at but if you put the moves on him, he'll politely turn you down. That's what happened to Claire. It didn't bother her though. Just shrugged it off and went on with life. Dylan on the otherhand, well that's a different story.

"What's up Dylan." Alexei had a faint Russian accent. "Claire, Sweetheart."

"What do you think about dear Claire here?"

"What I think? She's a beautiful, intelligent, sweet, young girl who is to die for." Alexei said, a smile spreading on his face. "The list goes on. Why?"

"Breakup. Feeling 's our job to cheer her up."

"Claire, do I have to beat someone's ass?"

"Can we not use the words 'beating' and 'ass' around here. Makes my thoughts go all naughty." Dylan says, before takin a sip from his glass.

"What happened?" Alexei asked, leaning over the bar.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"That bad huh?"

She nods again.

"Listen, baby girl. Any guy that lets you go, is incredibly stupid and has no idea what he's lost."

"Can I get a fucking drink over here!" Someone yells drunkenly over the music from down the bar.

"Успокойтесь вы, блин, мудак, прежде чем пойти туда и ссать в ваш напиток!*" Yelled Alexei in response. "Keep your head up, Claire. Don't let any man bring you down."

He winks with a smile before moving down the bar. Dylan leans over the bar slightly, watching Alexei walk away. Checking out the man's ass. "Damn," he sighs. "If only, if only."

Claire smirks. "Be obvious, why don't you."

"Hey, Missy!" He wags an accusing finger at her. "I'm gay. Ain't got time to be discreet."

Claire laughs, and she finally throws back her drink. He sees the brightness come back to her cobalt eyes, and he can't help but smile himself. It's good to see her laugh.

"Well I suppose if I can't have him, I'll take the hot blonde eyeing me from way over there." He points to a guy standing near the wall with a drink in his hand and a shy smile on his face. He's cute. In a cherub kind of way. He certainly isn't the first one to be caught looking at Dylan with lust in their eyes. Dylan was stunning. Honey brown hair, hazel eyes, tanned skin, and dimples when he smiled. He was also fit. Dragging Claire to the gym almost six times a week for two or three hours. Because of that he had no problem showing off what he had.

Dylan wiggles his fingers at him and smiles invitingly. She can tell a blush stains his cheeks despite the little light in the club.

"What a pretty little wallflower."

"Go over to him, Casanova."

"And leave my Number One all by her lonesome?" He gasps, appalled. "I don't think so!"

She giggles, "I'll be fine. Promise. Besides, don't let me keep you from scoring tonight."

He pouts sadly, "are you sure?"

Claire nods. "I'll punch you if you don't go."

"Okay." He prepares to get up but stops. "Wanna be my wingman?"

"Go, stupid." And she pushes him in the Wallflowers general direction when something, or rather someone, catches his eye.

"Damn! Look at that hot piece of flesh over there!" He points across the dance floor. Behind the mass of drunk partiers.

"What?" She says confused as she looks in the direction he's pointing.

At the entrance of the club, a man gracefully made his way through people on his way to the bar.

"Behold, the dream of women and homosexual men everywhere. Let me guess. 6"5, built, natural blonde. Unfortunately, probably straight. B.U.T.B and a god in the sack."

"B.U.T.B?"

"Blessed under the belt."

"You're gross."

"I'm a gay man in his prime. This is what I thrive at."

"You're so stereotypical."

"Oh my god, he's coming this way!" He screeched like a thirteen year old girl.

"Cool." Claire said disinterested, sticking her thumb in the air. Turning her back to the crowd and focusing on her glass. Filled to the brim with jack. She smiled at Alexei, who was back and wiping down a spill a little to the right of her.

"On the house, Sweetie." He winked. "What can I get you, sir?" He asks politely, turning his attention to someone who just joined the bar.

"Gin and tonic." He answers. Velvet, silk, satin. A mixture of the three that raised small goosebumps on her skin. He's ethereal. Angelic and godlike. Smooth, light skin untainted from any blemishes or undesirable markings. Fair, neatly combed, gelled back hair. His clothing ensemble was solid. Black, maybe a darker shade of blue but she couldn't tell. From the shoes she spied stealthily under the bar by the leg of his barstool to the sunglasses he wore on his face. Odd, she thought. Why the hell would someone wear sunglasses in here? At night. With strobe lights going on.

"He's all yours, baby doll." Dylan whispers in her ear as he puts himself between them. "Excuse me." He says, tapping him on the shoulder. "I noticed you sitting here and-"

_Oh god, what is he doing?_

"I just thought I'd introduce you-"

_Oh my god, Dylan. No!_

"To my dear friend-"

_Stop!_

"Claire."

_Shit!_

_Wave. Smile. Nod, anything. Just don't sit there like an idiot. _"Hi."

Alexei placed a glance in front of him. He took it, swirled it around and threw it back. "Pleasure," he muttered absent-mindedly without so much as a glance at either Dylan or Claire.

"Well, I'm off." Dylan said, his eyes searching for his wallflower who was still planted in the same spot.

"Good luck," he whispered to her as he passed.

She was going to need it. The man beside her was stoic, and he barely moved. When he did, it was to bring the glass to his lips when it was filled again or to rub his temples. And even those movements were graceful.

"Take a picture. It will last longer." He said suddenly.

She looked away hastily. Not realizing she had been staring.

"Sorry," she muttered quickly.

_Great first impression, Claire. _She thought_. Wait, I wasn't trying to impress him in the first place__!_

She was pretty, he had to say. Flame red hair falling around her shoulders. Matching the red dress she wore. But as he admired her, he vaguely remembers a saying told to him so long ago; where there is beauty there is pain. And he can tell she was in pain. Swallowed up, buried so deep it didn't show. But it was there and he saw it.

Though he thought her beautiful and held a slight curiosity toward her, it didn't mean he would acknowledge her in the slightest.

But as he sat down in the only available seat which was conveniently next to her and he ordered a drink, her friend decided upon himself that the two had to be introduced. When his drink came, he threw it back and greeted her with disinterest. Her friend left but he could still feel her eyes on him. He had that effect on most women he met.

"Take a picture. It will last longer." He remarked to which she muttered an apology and looked away. Clearly embarrassed. To be honest, he kind of liked the way she looked at him. When he took a glance at her, she was instead staring into her glass. Empty.

_What the hell_, he thought and turned to face her. "May I buy you a drink?"

It took her by surprise. Wasn't he just pretending she didn't exist? Now he wants to buy her a drink? _Say yes, stupid._ Her mind ordered her. "Uh, sure."

He gestured for Alexei to pour her another glass, then returned to being the silent force next to her.

"Thanks," Claire mumbled, sliding her thumb along the rim of the glass. Out of slight curiosity, she peeked at him from out of the corner of her eyes. Was that a smirk on his face?

"You're not very discrete." He said without looking at her.

Claire was caught off guard, he could tell by how her shoulders tensed slightly.

"Who said I was trying to be?" She replied, not trying too hard to keep the sassiness out of her voice. For some reason, that made him chuckle. Low and barely audible over the music. But she heard it and her shoulders relaxed some.

"You know, you never told me your name." She said, trying to break the tension.

"I'm not inclined to give it."

"Oh, well." She exhaled, getting ready to stand up and leave. "I'll just leave then."

"Stay," he said calmly.

Claire paused. Her body positioned somewhere in the middle of sitting and standing. She contemplated leaving for a moment, then sat back down. All she was leaving to was an empty apartment and a cold bed anyway. "Why?"

"I'm invested in your story. Albeit, only currently. Bartender," he called as he gestured to his empty glass.

"My story?" She said, her brows furrowing in confusion.

"The reason you look incredibly depressing in an expensive red satin dress."

She looks down at herself, smoothing the small, barely noticeable creases in the fabric. Dylan bought the dress for her to cheer her up. To get her out of the house. If she had to guess, she'd say Macy's, but she could be wrong.

"I um, just got out of a bad relationship."

She said it quietly. The words stinging her tongue in an annoying but non painful way. The stranger next to her was intriguing, and thoughts of the man who thought solely with the brain in his pants seemed like a mere fly buzzing around her head. Soon to be swatted.

"Cheater, liar, or beater?" He asked.

"The first two."

"My condolences."

"He was a dick anyway." She admitted, for the first time. "Guess I always go for the assholes." She allows a small smile when he takes a glance at her.

"What a shame."

Claire was quiet again. Staring down at the bottom of the glass filled with the clear liquid that had acompanied her for most of the night. "So," she said. "I guess I can call you Corey."

"Excuse me?" He said.

"You know. 'I wear my sunglasses at night. So I can, so I can.'" She sang. Moving her shoulder's a little as if she were dancing. His expression remained neutral. Embarressed, she clears her throat and throws back her drink. "Well I should head home. I've had way too many of these." She gestures to the glass.

As she stands, her world starts to spin and she stumbles. Someone catches her by her elbows before she falls over. "Maybe more than I thought."

*Calm down, you fucking asshole, before I go out there and piss in your drink!

**I'm hungry for reviews so leave a few. Good or bad.**

**Chapter two on the way!**

**Ta-ta for now!**


	2. Strangers

"I'm not drunk, I swear." Claire protests as they walk down the street. She staggers to her left slightly and Wesker grabs her shoulders to keep her from falling over.

"Clearly." He says.

"Really. Nine plus nine is eighteen. Nine times nine is eighty-one and nine divided by nine is one, see?" She remembers the first time she heard that. Chris had tried to convince a cop once that he wasn't driving drunk. It worked and the cop let him off with a warning. Now she uses it to convince people she's perfectfully fine.

"Where do you live?" He asks.

"Up a few blocks." She points up the street in front of them, before bending down. "These heels are killing me." She mutters as she rubs her aching ankle.

Her rear end brushes against his thigh briefly. Suprising him and making him take a step back. "I'm never wearing these heels ever again." She declares as she straightens with her right heel in her left hand before bending over again to take the other off.

Wesker clears his throat as he waits.

"Much better." She sighs and continues to walk. Her heels dangling from her fingers. "Why are you following me?"

"To make sure you don't get hit by a car, abducted, raped ect." Wesker answers. "And I'm not following you. I'm walking you home."

"Oh," Claire says as they cross a street. "Then thanks."

A cold breeze made Claire shiver and without thinking she wrapped her hands around his arm and snuggled into his side.

"Are you cold?"

"Uh, oh." Claire replied releasing his arm and stepping away. "Sorry, I used to do that with my ex. I wasn't thinking."

She rubs her arms, feeling the goosebumps all over her skin.

"Are you cold?" He repeats.

"Yeah." She admits.

He takes a moment to think something over, then puts an arm around her shoulders and pulls her into his side.

"You're so warm."

"Excuse me?"

"Uh," she says quickly. "I'm drunk, don't pay mind to me."

They walk for another two blocks in a sort of comfortable silence before they reach a lovely building. With large glass windows and a brightly illuminated lobby. Visible from the clear glass doors.

"This is me." She says, detatching from him and walking towards the door. "Thanks for walking me." She says before letting out a scream as something pierces her bare foot. "Holy mother of fuck!"

She starts to bounce up and down on one leg as she looks down at the floor. Theres a small piece of glass by her foot and she bounces away from it.

"Are you okay?" He says grabbing hold of her waist. Claire looks down at her foot. Blood ran down the sole of her foot from where a large piece of glass was lodged.

"Get it out! Get it out! Get it out!"

Wesker looked at it. He had no intention of taking it out right here. Which, he thinks, sounds a bit wrong. "Give me your keys."

"What?" She said with suprise.

"Give me your keys." He repeats.

"Here." She reaches into the front of her dress and pulls out a single silver key.

"You hold your keys in your bra?"

"Who said anything about a bra? Damn, it hurts!"

Wesker bent and swept an arm behind her knees. Holding her waist, he picks her up and pushing the door open with his back, enters the lobby. The guard sitting behind a desk looks at them.

"Good evening, Claire." He says, eyeing Wesker.

"Good evening, Tom. How're you?"

"'Bout to ask you the same thing." He replies as Wesker walks over to the elevator.

"Press the button." He says.

The button lights up as she presses it and the doors to the elevator instantly open. Wesker walks in and lets Claire press the button on the console to her floor. In a few minutes, the doors are opening again and he's asking her which way led to her apartment. Left, third door to the right. He sets her down gently and puts the key in the lock. It opens with ease and he helps her into the apartment. He leads her to the couch and watches as she sits down before he goes and closes the door.

"The light is by the door and there's a first aid kit in the bathroom under the sink." Claire says before the apartment is illuminated with light. Wesker takes a moment to look around the apartment. It's a large open space; big like a loft. A high ceiling, smooth hardwood floors and smoother walls painted white with family pictures and paintings hanging from certain places. On his left is the kitchen seperated from the living room by an island. There's a hall toward his right that leads to three doors. One on the left, one across from it, and one at the end of the hall inbetween the two.

"Which door?" He says as he makes his way over to them.

"The one straight down."

Wesker strides to the bathroom and opens the door before turning the light on. He quickly moves toward the sink and crouches before he pulls the cabinet door open. Sitting there next to some cleaning supplies and an extra roll of toilet paper, was a small white container. A red cross on the front of it. He grabs it and stands, closing the cabinet again.

_The little bastard is really in there_, Claire thinks as she squeezes the sole of her foot in an attempt to squeeze the sliver of glass out. It didn't work. It was, as she said, really, _really _in there.

"Sonofa-" She said quietly to herself as it didn't move an inch. Taunting her like the teasing little shit it was. She silently cursed the asshole who thought it was a good idea to leave broken glass all over the sidewalk.

"Don't do that."

Claire lets go of her foot and looks up. He's back with the first aid kit. Opening it as he takes a seat next to her. Pulling a shiny pair of tweazers out as he moves up to sit on the edge of the couch cushion.

_Funny,_ she thinks. _When did I put tweazers in there?_

"Come here," Wesker says and taps his thigh.

Claire lifts her leg and sets her foot on his thigh. He grabs her foot with one hand; steadying it. He has the tweazers in the other hand and begins to pull the glass shard out.

She winces and grabs his shoulder. "Take it easy there, would you?"

Wesker looks up, gives what she believes to be a small smirk, and holds up the tweazers. Gripped between the two sides is a four inch glass sliver. Glossy red with her blood.

"Whoa," she says as she takes a closer look at it. "Damn."

"Keep it as a trophy?" He asks, holding it up to examine it.

"You're joking? Throw it in the trash."

Wesker sets the tweazers down and starts digging into the first aid kit again. He takes out a white tube and twists open the top. Squeezing the bottom until a white cream comes out of the top and onto his finger.

"Next time," he says. "You should choose appropriate footwear, lest you enjoy pain."

And he rubs the cream on the little cut on her sole.

_It's weird_, she thinks. Just a few hours before, this man had been a complete and total stranger, and kind of an ass, but now he was in her apartment rubbing antibacterial cream on her foot.

Claire blinked. She let a complete stranger into her home. _Oh you're such an idiot! _She facepalms.

"What is it?"

She looks up at him. He's still wearing those glasses...

"Why are you wearing those?"

He doesn't answer.

"Is it like an identity thing? A fear of making connections that whole thing?"

"I believe," he says after a slight pause as he starts to graze the skin of her ankle with the tips of his fingers. Making short, repetitive strokes. "That I have made a connection tonight."

Smooth, she thinks. Watching his fingers. Thin and long. Moving in a slow confident pace.

She clears her throat, realizing that the knot in the pit of her stomach isn't from the alcohol she drank earlier. Especially since it came with a certain heat radiating softly just a little bit lower.

"Well," she says. "Thanks for uh, bringing me home."

His fingers stop, and he nods before she takes her foot off his thigh to allow him to get up. He sets the first aid kit on the coffee table and stands.

"I trust this will be a learning experience." He says as he heads toward the door. Claire stands and follows him. Careful with her injured foot.

"Oh yeah." She replies as he grabs the doorknob and pulls open the door. "Glass fucking stings."

She leans on the doorframe with her hand on the door as he moves into the hallway. He stops and turns to face her.

"Something to say?" She asks when he doesn't speak.

"Was your friend trying to sell me off as a one night stand?"

Claire tilts her head slightly to the side. "Was it that obvious?"

He nods.

"Well, I apologize. Sometimes Dylan doesn't know his limits."

"You didn't seem to mind."

"Dylan's a bad influence."

Wesker lets out a "hmm."

"So you never told me your name?" Claire says as she crosses her arm over her chest.

"Goodnight Claire." He says with a smirk before he moves to walk away.

"Wait!" And Claire's involuntarily reaching out. Wanting to grab his shirt but missing entirely and grabbing his belt.

Wesker stops. Looks down at her hand and up to look at Claire, who's staring down at her hand like it had a mind of it's own.

"Uh, sorry." She quickly lets go and pulls her arm back but he reaches out quickly and grabs her wrist. Rubbing the skin on the inside of her wrist with his thumb in small, circular motions.

"You got to stop that." She says, flitting her eyes from her wrist to his face.

Wesker pauses. Lets go of her wrist and as it falls to her side, steps forward and cups her face in his hands. Slowing briefly before pressing his lips to hers.

Startled, she takes a step back before bringing her hands up to his shoulders. Moving to his chest as he nips at her bottom lip, while he leads her back into her apartment. Stepping over the threshold.

Wesker removes his hands from her face to close the door behind him while she's itching to pull his shirt off. Working the buttons clumsily.

Once the door clicks shut, he backs her into the adjacent wall. Deciding to give her help with the buttons on his shirt. Combined efforts goes a long way, and in no time, the fabric is nothing but a dark mass on the floor by their feet. Forgotten as he picks her up and walks to the couch. All this as he slips his tongue in her mouth. Opening his eyes so as not to walk into the coffee table and spoiling the moment in one utterly terrible mistep.

She lays her hand on his cheek, her tongue sliding over his, while she glides her hand over his chest. Feeling every muscle sculpted under his smooth, cool skin. Moving down to his belt buckle. Finding no trouble undoing the buckle and pulling down the zipper.

Bowing his head, he kisses her chest, pulling the red fabric down the rest of her body. She raises one foot at a time so that she's completely free of the dress and he's on her, pushing her into the couch cushions. Kissing her again as he settles between her legs. Leaning back, he pushes his pants down to his knees. He leans back down and takes her mouth with his. Gliding his hands up and down her body. Caressing the skin of her thigh. Kneading her breasts as she guides hers up his well toned arms to his neck through his decidedly soft hair and eventually his face. Gentle fingers clasp around the frames of his sunglasses and begin to slowly pull them away when rough hands grip her wrist, stopping her.

He pauses. _What did this girl think she was doing? _He stares down at her sapphire eyes as they stare right back into his. He loosens his grip, closes his eyes, and lets her pull them off before burying his face in the crook of her neck. Biting and sucking the soft flesh as he uses his hand to guide himself into her. And that gasp she emitted was the sweetest thing he's ever heard.

_...Aaand my sinful fingers created something sexual..Dammit._


	3. Radioactive

_"Was he bad?"_

_The blonde haired, blue eyed, fair skinned boy next to her asked as she settled into the drivers seat. His cheeks stained pink and his breath crystallizing in the cold air. He doesn't look at her. Instead, focusing on a stray dog sniffing at what looked to be a dead rat. It's body was bald in some parts as mange gradually took over it, and it was terribly skinny. A literal bag of bones._

_She shudders and blows warm air into her freezing hands. "Who?" She asks, watching the dog as it took a bite out of the rat. She looks away._

_"My dad." He answers. Eyes still locked onto the dog. "Was he bad?"_

_She pauses. She had prepared herself for this moment every day since the shit hit the fan, but now that it shoved its ugly face in her general direction, she forgot what her carefully practiced words were and there was no escaping the elephant sitting with them in the car._

_"Yeah," she answers finally. "He was."_

_He's silent, but she sees the subtle look on his face as he glances down at his gloved hands._

_"He wasn't always, though." As if that made the previous statement any better. Still, she had to try. If not for her than for him. Defending the bastard was idiotic and well, redundant but the boy still considered him a father even if he had never even met the man._

_"Did he love you?" He asked. _

_This kid was amazing. At only thirteen years, he knew what questions would sneak under her armor and prick at her beautifully scarred skin. _

_"At one point, I guess." She answers. The mask she wore so well was beginning to crack. Just a tiny little crack at the edge._

_"And did you love him?" _

_The crack expands. Her heart bangs against her rib cage in a rude reminder that said "hey! I'm still here. Don't ignore me!" She bites her lip and gives a small, short nod. "I did. But I don't anymore." _

_The boy looks up at her. He was, in essence, carved from the same figurative stone as the man that helped create him. Same jaw structure. Same eyes. Same nose. Practically a little clone of the man she once loved. His eyes shined with life that could have only belonged to her. Differing them in one subtle detail, and he had no desire to hide it. _

_"Do you love me?" He asks. Voice quivering just the slightest. "Do you love me even though I remind you of him?" _

_Was it hard having a son that shared the same face with a psychopath? Yes. Did she regret the beautiful being she had created? Not one bit. He was part of them both. The only redeeming quality of the man that fucked the whole world without the common curtesy as to cover up. What kind of mother would place blame on her child for something a lover did? _

_"I will always love you, Jake." Claire said. Her heart ramming itself against her chest. "If you ever think I don't, I'll hurt you." She sees him crack a smile, and witnesses her son go from a little clone, to a boy all his own. Making her crack a small identical smile. The car just got a little bit warmer._

_"Uncle Chris doesn't though. I know because of the way he looks at me." He says._

_"Well, uncle Chris can go fuck himself, okay?" She says. Wishing fervently that she had the power to make him accept his nephew. And he chuckles. Something that seemed familiar even though the pitch and intensity was all different. _

_"We gotta get back to camp." She says as she starts the car up. A sudden rumble in the cold silence of the New World. _

_The dog lifted it's diseased head and watched as the car drew closer to it. Grabbing the rat in it's mouth before running off. _

_**I know what you're thinking..What is this mind-fuckery? .-.**_


	4. People Are Strange

Let's pretend we're in a time machine. The shit in the third chapter in italics, is the present. Our story is in the past. There is gonna be a few chapters in the present time as a side story. The main story takes place in the past before the shit in the third chapter went down.

*Crickets*

*Slams keyboard* It's gonna make fucking sense, I swear!

Claire awakens with the sun on her face and the sheets tangled between her legs. A dull pain at the base of her spine and the space on the right side of her hip where the bone made a barely noticeable ridge under her skin. She extends her arms and legs and gives a good morning stretch accompanied by a well rested yawn. Wiggling her toes, she wraps the sheet around herself and heads toward the bathroom at the end of the hall. Her bedroom door wide open oddly. On her way, she peeks into Dylan's room to find an empty but well made bed and figures she's not the only one who got lucky last night and continues on her journey to the bathroom.

Once she gets there, she flips the light switch and drops the sheet. Giving all her attention to the shower as she turns the knob and extends her hand to catch the cold water. Waiting for the water to run hot.

The shower was good enough. The hot water massaged her sore muscles and woke her up enough so she could wash without nodding off. At one point, fumbling for her toothbrush and toothpaste sitting on the sink to get the morning breath out of her mouth.

Once she was done, she dried herself off with her baby blue cotton towel and hung it up on the shower rod to dry. Walking au natural back to her bedroom. Where she picked her gray Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle shirt (which was getting really small on her) and her Bugs Bunny pj bottoms (which she had for years) and dressed herself lazily. Tying her hair up in a ponytail before heading to the kitchen to make herself a bowl of Lucky Charms. Oh, she was a child at heart.

Digging up the essential items and throwing them into a bowl, she plops down on the couch and reaches for the TV remote sitting on the coffee table.

Somewhere in the middle of watching Wile E Coyote fail for the millionth time to kill the Road Runner and sipping the left over milk from the bowl, she looks around at her apartment. Out the large windows at the buzzing city to the couch cushion beside her (that saw way much more action than it should), to the fake granite topped island separating the kitchen from the living room. Where a small white bag with Romano's Bakery written in red French script on the side sat. Picture worthy next to a white piece of paper and a styrofoam coffee cup.

How she didn't see it before was beyond her, but she set the bowl on the coffee table and got up to investigate. She looks at the paper first.

_Had to go to work. Everyone is very fond of Romano's. Hopefully the coffee is still warm when you get to it. Have a good morning. _

_~A.W_

The note was written in perfect cursive. She set the note down and dug into the bag.

"Yum," she said as she pulled out a chocolate eclair. The coffee was lukewarm, so she took one sip and decided to pour it into the sink as she nibbled on the eclair.

Just as she's shaking the last few drops out of of the cup, the front door opens and Dylan steps in. Eyes red, hair a mess. He closes and locks the door, before walking over and collapsing onto the couch.

"I have," he says. "The biggest hangover."

"So he takes me back to his place, right? And by then I had, what, like fifteen drinks so we're falling all over the place." Dylan says as he stirs the tea bag around in his mug. "We start getting busy on the couch, and his mom walks in!"

"His mom?" Claire says, eyebrows raising. "How old was he?"

"Oh he was twenty two," he answers lifting the mug. "I checked his wallet." And he takes a sip.

"Wow." She says, leaning back in her chair.

Dylan makes a noise as he swallows his tea and waves his hand. "Oh!" He sets his mug down again. "I was so wasted, when she walked in, I yelled 'join us!' Which disturbs me on many levels."

Claire giggles and finishes off the rest of her eclair.

"So how did it go with Tall, Dark, and Fabulous?"

Claire shrugs. "Well, you know. We talked kind of. Then he walked me home."

Dylan groans. A dramatic show of needing to know and Dylan just being Dylan. "You're such a tease! Tell me more!"

Claire smirks. She loved teasing him. It was her hobby. "Well," she says. Dragging out the 'ell'.

"Cut the four play!"

"One shouldn't kiss and tell." She finally says.

"One shouldn't- you whore!" He says exasperated. "Give it to me straight, Doc."

"Fine. We did the," she pauses, trying to find words that didn't seem so vulgar. "The deed."

"Oh yeah." Dylan responds. Grinning proudly. "My Claire got laid." He leans back and folds his hands behind his head. "So how was he?"

Claire blinks. "He was great." She says and adds as an afterthought, "Never knew I could be that flexible."

"Keep it going. Daddy likes to get down and dirty."

"We did it on the couch."

Dylan's smile disappears and he stares at her. "You know everyone has to sit there right? I mean for the sake of baby Jesus, I eat Lucky Charms there."

"Dylan, you and I both know the white stains on that couch are not milk stains." Claire deadpans, crossing her arms.

"Well, were you bottom or top?"

"Both." She answers before realizing that was the sluttiest thing that's left her mouth.

"Your bare ass touched the cushions, Claire!"

"Well maybe we should get a new couch." She suggests.

"Well if we all fucked on it, maybe we should!"

"Good!"

"Good!" Dylan said as he stood up and grabbed his keys that he had set on the table. Claire watched as he walked to the front door and pulled it open.

"Where are you going?"

"To Ikea!" He yells back before closing the door behind him.

Claire shakes her head with a smile on her face. Men were such simple creatures.

She stops, her smile disappears and her eyes go wide. "Oh shit."

In the heart of Raccoon City Police headquarters, took place the game of the month; a serious game of silent touch football. On one side of the STARS department stood Chris, Joseph, and Jill. On the other stood Forrest, Rebecca, and that new guy. Leon. Who had happened to pass by when they were picking teams and evened everything out.

Chris had the ball, which was really just a lot of pieces of crumpled pieces of paper stuck together with a bunch rubber bands. He stuck it under his arm and made a run toward he end zone by the windows, jumping over a chair with Leon and Forrest trailing behind him. Jill and Joseph on their tails. Jill manages to touch Forrest on the back with a little more force than intended, making him trip over his feet and fall on his face. Chris reaches the windows and throws the ball to the floor, cheering silently. He picks the ball up and they walk back to the center of the office.

He mouths hike and watches as Jill and Joseph run toward their end-zone. He throws the ball to Jill but is intercepted by Leon who throws it back to Rebecca by the doors to the office. He throws it higher than anticipated and it flies just over her head, hitting the stoic man behind her in the face. Who, Chris swears to baby Jesus, wasn't there before.

Captain Wesker stands stock still as the paper ball hits him on the forehead with a scowl. Everyone in the room, very aware of the captains strict and sometimes cruel punishments, stands very still. As if he had the eyesight of a tyrannosaurus and not moving would ensure safety among the masses.

"I assume you are all on break." He says slowly with the kind of authority that can make a grown man quiver.

Chris clears his throat, "our shift hasn't started yet sir. We were just trying to pass the time until then."

"Need I remind you that you have a stack of reports that need to be filed?" He says as he walks to his office door.

"I'll get right on it." Chris says.

Wesker disappears into his office and Chris goes back to his desk. "That's weird."

"He'd usually make us do reception work all day for that." Jill added. Back at her own desk.

"Maybe he's happy." Forrest shrugs. "Hey! Maybe he got laid."

"Explains a lot." Chris shrugs.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. The rest of the morning consisted of this single, repetitive chant. She said it as she looked through the garbage, under the couch, and between the couch cushions looking for the disgusting piece of evidence. She said it once more as she grabbed her keys and left the apartment in her pajamas to go to the nearest pharmacy. The girl behind the counter smirked as she checked out her purchase, and with a shocked gasp she snatches the paper bag and leaves the pharmacy.

Back at the apartment, she sits on the side of the tub and stares at the little stick of plastic sitting on the sink. Mocking her with the evil intensity of Satan on LSD. She doesn't really know why she made that comparison but her two minutes were up and the moment of truth was being thrust upon her. Wasn't that what lead to this?

"Oh shit", she says for the final time as she picks the pregnancy test up and looking at it. The symbol was supposed to be a line if you were pregnant; a circle if you weren't.

Claire gasps out a sigh of relief as the circle stares up at her, before tossing it into the garbage. "Shee-it."

_Later that day..._

"Can you explain to me why," Dylan says as he appears in the doorway of Claire's bedroom, "why I went to take a piss and _this _was staring up at me?"

Claire looks up from her laptop to find Dylan holding her pregnancy test wrapped in toilet paper.

There's a certain feeling that crawls inside and makes a nest of quesiness and remorse in the pit of your stomach when you know you've just been caught. Pants down and bent over a barrel (figuritely. I hope.), and the only thing you can do is not move and hope whoever caught you has the eyes and sight of a tyrannosaurus.

"I can explain that."

Dylan gives her the 'oh really' look.

"Well," she starts, choosing the right words in her head. "We were drinking last night, and naturally I got shit faced. Long story short, I don't remember if he covered up. It was just a test."

Dylan blinks and with a straight face says, "I don't like this new Claire."

"I'm on the pill, it was just to be sure!"

Dylan 'mmm hmm's in that way that says 'yeah okay'. "But if I see this in our garbage can again, I'm personally going to take you to a convent."

Claire laughs as Dylan walks away, to the bathroom to throw out the little stick of shame. "I'm serious! No more sex for you!"

_Even later that day..._

It was decided a little while later that the apartments food supply was running low, so both Claire and Dylan took a trip down to the local grocery store. That's where the day took a strange, and dramatic, turn. It started when a middle aged woman the size and shape of a pumpkin decided to cut at the checkout line. Claire had politely asked her to go to the back of the line like any decent human being, but the lady, (we'll call her Pumpy), gave her a dirty look and said something so vague and obscene, even I am not allowed to repeat it.

"Excuse me?" Claire said in disbelief.

Dylan, who stood behind her, muttered an "oh shit" and took a sip from his iced coffee. Hoping and praying it didn't end up like last time. Last time the cops were called.

And then it all went to hell. There was hair pulling, slapping, scratching- this is starting to sound like a bed-sport. Claire was the victor simply because Pumpy couldn't roll off her back as she dug her nails into Claire's skin and hung on for dear life. And I say this because Pumpy was kicking her ass.

It was just like last time. Some society do-gooder called the police and arrested them both. Claire was in handcuffs as the two officers tried to figure out a way to get Pumpy up and in cuffs. An hour later, Claire was sitting in the Raccoon City Precinct. Hand cuffed to the bench where she sat. Waiting impatiently for Dylan to come to her rescue.

Wesker, on the other side of the precinct, was on his fifth round of paperwork. Less than four hours of sleep and craving coffee. Even that watered down version from a vending machine which was tepid at best. He leans back in his chair and sighs, rubbing his temples. Today was going to be a long, boring day. He looks down at his watch; five fifty-two. His shift didn't end until nine thirty which seemed like a lifetime away.

Sighing again, he pushes back his chair and stands, making his way out of his office. Noticing, with displeasure, that Chris had taken to throwing a paper ball up toward the ceiling and catching it as it came back down. Noticing that Wesker was watching him, Chris quickly turns back to the stack of papers in front of him. Letting the ball fall to the floor.

Wesker continues on his way and before long he's reached the coffee machine stationed conveniently in the lobby. It was there, as he's pushing quarters into the coin slot, that he realizes a familiar red head was sitting across the room. Glumly staring at her shoes with a her fist holding up her bored head. He paused as he stared at her. What were the odds a random one night stand would show up at your place of work? He bets high and lays his cards on the table. Forgetting the toilet water ridiculously regarded as coffee, he strides across the room.

Claire was thinking about how she really needed a new pair of comfy "walk around" sneakers, but in the middle of the thought, a tall figure invaded her personal bubble. Unwelcome and damn uninvited.

"What?" She says as she looks up. Shoving her attitude to whoever dared disturb her. Only, it wasn't a stranger because just last night, they were real familiar.

"What the hell?" She says, sitting up slightly. Her attitude sent running back home with its figurative tail between its figurative legs. "You're a cop?"

"You're a criminal?" He answers. His voice showing little surprise.

"I am not!" She defends herself quickly. "I'm just misunderstood."

Wesker's face showed what may have been confusion, though it could have been anything.

Claire sighs. "The fat lady started it."

"Mm hmm." This day had just gotten interesting. "I don't even want to know." He says before turning on his heel and starting toward the vending machine.

"Hey, wait!" Claire calls, going to stand and forgetting she was handcuffed and sits back down.

Wesker turns back toward her. "Yes?"

"Can't you do something?" She gestures to the cuffs. "About this?"

He clicks his tongue. "I'll see."

And he walks away. Not to the vending machine like she thought, but to the reception desk on the other side of the large room. Minutes pass as Wesker talks to the man behind the reception desk. He looks from Wesker to Claire before he nods, standing and walking over to her.

"Lucky day, miss." He says as he pulls a ring of keys from his belt and unlocks her cuffs.

"Thanks," she says as she stands. Rubbing her wrists. She looks around for Wesker who is still at the reception desk. Watching her before he walks back over.

"Thanks a lot." She says.

"Mmm," Wesker replies. "Don't make it a habit."

"I see you're all work and no play on the job."

"Well, you see, I'd like to keep my job."

This time it was Claire who 'hmm'ed. A habit she might have picked up from a certain blonde.

Wesker looks down at his watch which had just switched from five fifty-nine to six o'clock. _How convenient._

"I might as well offer to drive you home." He sighs.

"You don't have to." She says, sticking her hands in her back pockets.

"Im insisting, lest you end up on the seven o'clock news."

_What a dick, _she thinks. "Fine then."

_Wanna see some shit? ;)_


End file.
